#I thought his would be more high shrill and manically irritating

[goldenponcho]

A Cruise Fit for a King Chapter 4

I’m going to preface this chapter with a hot take:

Scarlemagne is absolutely a Karen.

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The erratic slapping of Hugo’s hand against the water as he attempted to paddle for shore, in hindsight, had most likely been ineffective. But in the moment, in his still stir-crazy mind, it felt like it was making him go faster. He tired himself out long before he would make it, however. The horizon, he soon realized, was much further away than he had once thought.

It was a good four hours before his strange little craft got anywhere close to perceiving much of anything about the island, but when he did, his hopes rose. The island was massive, for all he knew, an entire continent. He could make out a scattering of small architecture, nothing like the massive high-rises of Skyscraper Ridge, but it still promised some manner of life. Hugo was so mesmerized, it nearly gave him palpitations when something hit his vehicle with a thud.

“‘Ay!! No floaters in the reef, land-crawler!!”

“Huh?” Hugo leaned to see who was speaking to him, only to be shocked into silence. Below him was a bustling rainbow of colors and shapes. There were hundreds…thousand of all sorts of marine mutes weaving in and out of a labyrinth of radiant coral. The water was so crystal clear, he could see straight down for what must have been at least thirty feet, and he quickly sat back down in the passenger seat, as actually seeing how deep the water was was much more unnerving than just knowing it in the back of his mind, no matter how much infinitely deeper the actual ocean was.

There was another thud and a squeeeek! as another mute raked the side of the car.

“Hey! You don’t belong here! Get out of our shoals!!”

Hugo, more cautiously this time, craned his head to address the second irritated mute, a porpoise with a fanny pack strapped to her pudgy neck.

“Apologies, madame! I just need to get to shore so I can-”

“Officer! Arrest this baboon!”

Hugo bristled with an affected gasp, “I am NOT a baboon; I’m a MANDRILL! And I’ll kindly thank you not to-”

“Alright, King Kong! Outta the water! Beat it!!” The black and white “officer” fish berated him and blew a shrill whistle.

Before Hugo could begin to reply, his craft was rocked to the point of nearly capsizing as a mega octopus surfaced, and began flailing its massive tentacles to send his vehicle careening toward shore. He could hear angered jeering aimed toward him, and he gripped the door and the seat beneath him as his craft skidded through the surf and onto the shore.

His car came to a nearly instant halt in the sand, and his nose pressed painfully into the windshield before he was tossed back into his seat. Hugo rubbed his aching snout, groaning as he sat up from the slouched position he had been forced into. He quickly saw that he had been lucky enough to stop just short of a substantial piece of driftwood.

“Thanks for the ride, gents!” He leapt to balance himself on the edge of the driver’s side door, holding onto the windshield frame for support as he cupped the other hand to project his voice, “This is exactly where I wanted to go! I’M MUCH ABLIGED!!”

He was barely through with his taunting when a nasally, monotone voice interrupted him, “Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to move your car, or I’ll have no choice but to tow it.”

Hugo looked through the windshield to see a seagull mute wearing a crooked baseball cap and a heavily stained navy jumpsuit.

“I beg your pardon, but I was most unceremoniously surfed here completely outside of my own control,” he stepped back onto the seat behind him and opened his door to release a stream of seawater before stepping down to the beach with a haughty strut, “AND if you could see beyond that BEAK of yours, you would notice that this vehicle has no wheels to speak of.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I couldn’t be less emotionally invested if I wanted to… Tough break, I guess.”

With a wave of the gull’s feather wing, Hugo heard loud flapping and turned in time to watch a mega pelican with two heads that would have dwarfed even his own personal flamingo several times over thud to the sand on the other side of the car. The creature lowered one of its heads and opened its beak to reveal a whole pile of mostly metal flotsam and jetsam. Hugo was left uncharacteristically speechless as the beak latched onto his car and engulfed it completely before the bird waddled with heavy steps away from the beach and further inland. It stopped in front of what looked to be a large wall made of garbage that spanned the entire length of the shore as far as Hugo could see both ways, then practically vomited his precious luxury car onto the top of the wall along with the pile of scrap metal.

“Are-you-JOKING?!!” he resisted the urge to stomp his foot, “That convertible is my ONLY mode of transportation!”

The seagull didn’t look up from his clipboard to gave a wide eyed, tight beaked stare at nothing, “Well, you should have thought about that before you bought a car with no wheels.”

Hugo’s eye twitched, and his fur bristled as he clenched his fists in front of him with barred teeth. Before he could retort, the rude mute had ripped the the sheet of paper he had been writing on and held it in front of  Hugo’s nose. “If you want it back, sign this and take it to Maggie at the kiosk. Have a nice day.”

Hugo glared daggers at who was now his least favorite mute in the world, raising a hand slowly, then violently snatching the paper from him. “Thank. You.” The words were punctuated in a way which insinuated that in spirit, he was saying something much less kind. He huffed as the bird left to torment some other poor soul and glanced to scan the form he had been handed.

He glared at the entry for “year” where the gull had written “old”. “Old?! That car was a classic, fully restored, in mint condition!” He slapped the back of his hand against the form, “At least it was.”

His eyes scanned over the total for the pickup fee to see scribbled there “five small shells, three medium shells, or one large shell”. That was all? He looked to his feet where there was nothing but a mixture of seashells and sand, and he gave a shrug before scooping up a handful. He sorted through the gritty mixture with a finger to study its contents. There was one shell. Two. Three, four…and five! He dusted the rest off on his coat, taking extra care to make sure none of the sand stuck there, then made his way to the kiosk next to the wall.

Hugo approached the large crab mute behind the counter and tossed the form and the shells in front of her. “I’d like my automobile back, ma’am. The fuchsia convertible with the silver hood ornament of my very own likeness,” he gave a “get going” motion with his hand. “Please and thank you.”

“What the hell are these?” The crab’s voice grated as she put a cigarette out on the counter, but she didn’t budge from her spot, arms crossed and leaned back against her own massive shell.

“Five small shells?” Hugo jabbed a finger to the form, “I believe this is sufficient payment for you to release back to me my vehicle that your DELIGHTFUL little mom and pop operation took right from under my nose.”

“You ain’t from around here, are ya, monkeyshines? These measly little suckers ain’t worth squat. You need a few o’ these bad boys!” She gave the shell behind her a slap, “We’re talkin’ ‘bout conchs, whelks, cones…even a pitiful little nerite  would be better than this. How ya ‘spect the young’uns ta keep their keisters covered with a couple’a little, cracked surf clams?” She moved to open the curtained bar flap next to her which revealed a tiny horde of baby hermit crabs, all of different sizes, one skittering out of site with a squeak at being caught mid shell exchange.

“Listen!” Hugo howled, pointing an assertive finger, “THAT car has been with me for a LONG time! If you think I’m about to let it become a BRICK in your wall of RABBLE, YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN!!!”

Hugo breathed loudly and rapidly, now hunched forward on his knuckles, but the hermit crab wasn’t at all threatened.

“You ain’t got SHELLS, monkeyshines, then you ain’t got a CAR!!” And with that, she slammed the rolling counter door above them shut, nearly catching the tip of Hugo’s nose on the way down.

He inhaled before releasing something between a snarl and a scream through clenched teeth, then shuddered with a growl before almost immediately composing himself with a proper, upright posture and a stiff, manic smile, “I…HATE it here.”

[slashiest-slasher]

😈 poly Billy and Brahms part THREE?? Dat shiz is DELICIOUS.

Sorry this took so long, but heres fucking nearly 4k of mostly porn ( ◜◡＾)っ╰⋃╯(me @ all of you) has some solo brahms, some brahms x billy bj’s, and brahms crying while he fucks you! wow!

readmore cause it’s fucking 4k im not subjecting people to that

In a strange sort of happenstance, things seemingly balancedout in life for you and your boys. Brahms, the brat he is, of course demandedmore and more attention, but what else could you expect from him? And Billy,despite swinging wildly between manic states and lulls of stability, had verylittle to complain about. Or at least you thought he did, it was hard to tellat times.

You could no longer follow the Heelshire’s strict routinethat they had set up. You had already broken quite a few rules, but it reallyhit you in the face when you had to adjust Brahms’ nighttime routine.

Everyone, expectedly, demanded to sleep in your bed,although the bed that Brahms had been slepping in before would be much morefitting. Before Brahms threw a fit and ran away, he would sleep in the masterbedroom and there was little you could do from Billy slipping into your bedafter he had been tucked in.

He tends to cause a ruckus, make unsettling noises, and rubhimself against you in a crude attempt to get you aroused. He moans loudly,jerks himself off regardless of if you join him or not, and spills filth fromhis mouth as he worked his cock over your body. If you let him, he lathes yourbody in kisses, or sucked and moaned around your fingers.

But he never touches you, never crosses the barrier ofpleasuring you until you gave him that look, and say in that low, sultry voiceof your, “C'mere Billy. I want you to be a naughty boy.” And he leaps on thechance to give you what he promised, even though he is usually too shy to do/everything/ he wants.

Throwing Brahms into the mix complicated and simplifiedthings.

Once the three of you become an item (or a situation, as youprefer), Brahms of course moves right into your bed. He demands to be tuckedinto bed and given his goodnight kiss, even if he always ends up kicking offthe covers and wrapping around you the moment you settled yourself in bed. Youhave Brahms on one side, rubbing his face to yours and running his hands alongyour body, and Billy on the others, arms around your waist and face pressedinto your stomach like he didn’t need to breath.

Billy tries to be more courteous at night, taking care ofhimself in the bathroom. But there are nights he crawls into bed and discreetlyworks himself pressed up tight to your body and stuffs his fingers into hismouth to muffle his cries and whines. Brahms huffs and tosses himself to hisother side and presses his hands tight to his ears.

It’s not like you can exactly blame Billy. It isn’t apleasant thing to have such an active and high sex drive and developing suchdeep rooted need to get off before he could even think about sleeping is evenworse. You are working to fix that, but thing are progressing at a snail'space.

Brahms just sees it as more attention Billy is taking awayfrom him.

He thinks he's being so coy when he strips and starts toplay with himself when he knows you will be coming any minute to get him readyfor bed. His nude body is on display for you to view, and he makes sure thathis cock is front and center.

You are focused on the alarm clock in your hands when youwalk in, and don’t immediately see him sprawled on his old bed. “Brahmsy, timefor...” you jerk back when you finally look and see him looking at you withblown eyes, slowly working his cock. His breathing is loud and shaky underneathhis mask. “...bed.”

He says your name, low and grumbling in his chest, watching youintently as you make your way to the side of the bed. Your fingers are hesitantand light when you run them down the side of his masked face, along his jaw,and down his neck. Brahms shakes like a leaf under your touch, pushing up intoyour hand when you let it rest on the crook of his neck.

He says your name again, this time in a desperate whine, andhis strokes become more erratic, smearing his pre-cum that was beading on thetip.

“Brahmsy,” you say, keeping your voice steady. “Go to bed.”You lovingly pet his hair, but you can see the beginnings of irritation on hisface. Before he can growl out your name, you cut him off. “I want you to get up- don’t put your clothes back on. Get up, then go lay down in my bed, and waitfor me until I’m done getting ready. If you’re a good boy, I’ll give you whatyou want."

His breathing had picked up as he listened raptly to eachword coming from your mouth. He almost starts hyperventilating when you leandown and let your lips graze against his ear lobe. "And if you play nicewith Billy, I’ll give you a very special treat.”

You let a hand run down his furry chest before stepping backand running your eyes down his form. When he doesn’t immediately leave, it onlytakes a nod of your head to the door to send him scampering.

Billy’s already in bed, eyes foggy but drowsy. He perks upwhen he sees Brahms come in, but sits up when he sees the state he’s in. Theway oversized t-shirt he wears does absolutely nothing to hide his record-timeerection.

Billy shoves the fingertips of one hand into his mouth,chewing and slobbering on them while Brahms walks up and towers over him. “Wantme to su-suck your f-ffucking juicy cock, pretty Brahmsy?” he says around hisfingers, staring up at him with those big, awful eyes. “I’m going to wrapmuh-my lips around you, a-an-and drink your pretty pink dick up. Let you fuckmy th-throat.” He settles his free hand on Brahms hip, grinning and gigglingaround his fingers.

Brahms doesn’t say anything, but he pushes Billy back ontothe bed and crawls over him, hands on either side of his head. He decides thatBilly isn’t all that bad looking.

He has soft, honey brown hair, pale green eyes, and thispale body hair that barely stands out from his skin. He is bone thin, but youhad been feeding him up and exercising him properly, like you had with Brahmswhen he first came out of the walls. The muscles in his body are becoming moretoned, but covered by a thin layer of fat.

And as much as he loathes to admit it, Billy made him pop uncomfortableboners more often than he would like. Sometimes it makes sense to him, likewhen he would tear off his clothes in a manic fit, or jerking himself off inthe middle of the house.

But there were moments that confuses him, like when Billybashfully let Brahms tie the apron behind him, or when he brushed his hairbehind his ear when handing something to you, or when he was splayed across thebed early in the morning, having finally worn himself out, and the sun stripedhim with golden rays.

He knows not to react or say anything when you walk in,wearing /Brahms'/ pajamas, and sit yourself squarely in an armchair, one legthrown over the armrest.

Billy goes to squeal something, but Brahms reacts quickly byhiking up his shirt, running his hands firmly up his sides. He lets out a high,breathy moan when Brahms circles his nipples with his thumbs. In response,Billy jerks his hips, rubbing his dick along the V of Brahms’ groin.

In a show of surprising strength, Billy wraps his armsaround Brahms’ torso and hold his close, rutting against him. He places aseries of messy kisses to the lips of Brahms’ mask, making the porcelainglisten in the lamp light.

"Fuck me! Fuck me!" Billy yells, jarring andcoarse. His body is a trembling mess, letting out a long, sharp whine."Split me in half with your big fucking cock!"

Brahms jerks back, and hold Billy down the mattress by hiswrists. "You're being naughty," he slips into his childish voice,staring down at Billy's writhing body. "Naughty boys don't get toplay."

"Filthy Billy, filthy nasty Billy," suddenly, hisvoice goes shrill. "Billy! What are you doing to the baby!" His chestis heaving, and he thrashes violently from side to side, trying to loosen hiswrists.

You tense up, and go to jump up. It was oh, so easy forBilly to get too excited, too overwhelmed. Set off by any little thing. "Shhh,you're naughty, not filthy. You're pretty Billy, a very pretty boy."

Billy freezes and looks up with wide, unbelieving eyes."P-pretty?" he asks, voice quiet and soft. "Pretty Brahmsy,th-thinks Billy's pretty?"

"Very. Can I kiss you?" Brahms asks, letting hiswrists go.

Billy nods rapidly, his splaying around his head like ahalo. "K-kiss me, please."

Brahms looks over to you, where you relax down in your seat,before staring back at Billy. He reaches up and removes his mask hesitantly,letting it fall to the carpeted floor. It feels raw and strange, and Brahmswants to duck his head away.

But Billy grabs his cheeks reverently, and drinks in everydetail of Brahms's face before pulling him down.

Brahms tries to keep their kiss deep and slow and burninghot, but Billy can't help but cling tight and make it sloppy, wet, and tooerotic for you to watch.

You're practically swimming in his clothes, so it takes verylittle effort to slide them off.

Brahms hears the click of a lid bottle, and when he glancesover to you out of the corner of his eyes. His breath catches in his throat. Henearly pulls away when he catches your fingers slicked with lubricant, andslipping into yourself. Your face barely changes when they breach your hole,but your eyes are hooded as you watch Brahms and Billy.

Brahms lets his kisses drift away from Billy's mouth. Downhis neck and chest. The laughs Billy makes when his beard brushes against thatsoftened, but still concave, stomach makes his head feel light. Brahms slipsdown between his legs, hoisting them over his shoulders, and kisses the insideof Billy's thighs while he figures out how to tackle the daunting task in frontof him.

It's not like he's ever sucked a dick before. Or had sexwith anyone. Of course, he's jerks himself off, and there was the instance whenhe ran way. You had started holding and touching him in more romantic ways, butnothing ever ventured past over the clothes petting and heady kisses.

His knowledge on straight sex were outdated, but plentifulin the old novels mummy tried hiding from him. But when it came to a man beingwith another man... There was an incident where Malcom had been strong armedinto being a temporary nanny when daddy broke his arm, and he and mummy had tostay in the hospital for a few days.

From the years and years of being the grocery boy, he knewhow to handle things around the house, and Brahms doesn't entirely hatehim. He had made a decent nanny, even if he wasn't warm and loving to the doll.

Brahms had, naturally, riffled through the duffle bag thatwas brought, only taking a pair of dirty boxers and hidden magazine.

A naughty magazine with images of men wrapped aroundeach other, doing such dirty things to each other.

The thought of two men together... It was nothing Brahmsever imagined before and opened up so many doors when he partook in his ownpleasure. He was tempted to trap Malcom, keep him as his own to experimentwith, but he would never do as a proper nanny. Malcom was best as someone whodelivered groceries and took away the trash.

There were some nights, before you, when Brahms was cold andlonely, curled up on himself, that he wished he did so he could have someone tohold against himself. To tell him he was a good boy, and was handsome, and wasloved.

In the particular magazine that he saw a man sucking anotherman's dick. Brahms considered it a plus that unlike you, germs didn't botherhim all too much.

He pokes his tongue out, and gave a tentative lick to theunderside of Billy's dick (which despite his insistence was "big and fat",was an average length and a little on the leaner side).

It is enough to cause Billy to jolt and clasp a hand overhis mouth. It didn't do very much to hide to long, keening shout from rippingout of his throat. It devolved into moans when Brahms closes his lips aroundthe head, pulling Billy's cock into his hot, wet mouth.

Billy's thighs shake and jerk under his hands, while hishands wind tightly in his own hair. He tugs and musses up his already untidyhair while Brahms slowly works his cock. So so so so warm, and Brahms doesn'topen his mouth up wide enough, so whenever his molars graze Billy's sensitiveshaft, his hips jump, and he can't stop the litany of breathless moans fromspilling from his lips.

"Oh, oh, oh oh! Please, please pretty Brahmsy," heonly pauses to take in sharp, gasping breaths, and thrusting hard enough tosend the tip of his dick slipping down Brahm's throat, who gags and groans atthe intrusion. It only eggs Billy on, to fist Brahms' hair and fucking hismouth, his free hand gripping the sheet tightly.

And Brahms, well it stung and made tears well in the cornerof his eyes when Billy uses him like this, too caught up in his own pleasureinduced mania to recognize or care for Brahms' discomfort. But he can see you,three fingers deep, muffling yourself, face flushed, and watching them withsuch focused intent.

And all of that will be his if he can put up with Billybeing a bit rough. Of course, his erection hasn't flagged, and he's smearingpre-cum on the duvet. He doesn't know if it's his favorite, but he consoleshimself that at least he can take some please out of being used. Maybe morethan he is willing to admit.

If Billy was any bigger, it would hurt more, but it's onlythe head of Billy's dick that's forcing its way into his throat.

Well, forcing is a bit too harsh of a word. Brahms had triedhis best to keep his mouth and throat slack when Billy had taken control. Heneeds to be a very, very good boy for you. He needs to stop himself fromthrowing Billy off, not that he wanted to as much anymore, and hold back thetears that threaten to spill down his cheeks from arousing discomfort.

Mummy always disapproved whenever he would cry, no matterthe reason. If he had been scolded, or daddy had spanked him for being naughty,or he had slipped and fallen inside the walls and now his arm was bent at aweird angle. And you had already rolled your eyes and huffed when he would crywhen you were upset with him.

So if you saw him crying now, certainly you would see him asbeing bad, and you would change your mind.

Billy suddenly thrusts up hard, until Brahms’ nose isburrowed into the soft thatch of pubes at the base of his dick. His mouth isopen in a silent scream, but nothing but small, choked sounds come out. Ropeystrands of cum pulse out of his dick and directly down Brahms' throat like whenmummy would force-feed him when he was sick.

And as much as he wants to gag up the warm cum that wasstruggling to settle in his stomach, he wasn't a bad boy. Brahms wants you,badly, and he will do anything for that. Billy sags down and almost melts intothe plush covers and mattress. His eyes flutter shut, but not all the way. Thehand that's in his hair relaxes, and Billy instead uses it to pet the wild messof curls. "You have a wonderful mouth, so, so pink and hot," hegiggled softly and let his hand fall away.

Brahms immediately gets up, and loomed over you. "Iwas good, I played nice. Can I have my reward now?" Even at his fullheight and how demanding he sounds, anxiety crawls through his veins like ants.

"Oh Brahmsy," you gasp when you remove yourfingers. "You were so, so good. A very good boy, and you were so beautifulwith Billy."

A wide grin spreads on his lips when he hears you, and hebounces on his feet, holding his hands behind his back.

"Now go sit down on the edge of the bed for me, andI'll give you your special treat, alright?"

Brahms had never moved faster in his life then he did then,perched and back straight. But it isn't like you were in much of a hurry.

You strut over, wrap your hands around his shoulder, andhold tight when you crawl onto his lap. You can feel his burning member twitchagainst your ass as you slowly grind down on it, relishing in his whimpers andthe desperate look grimacing on his face.

His hands fly to your waist, and pull you down harderagainst him. "Please, I want you so bad," he whines, tuckinghis face next yours. He can't let you see how badly he needs this, although youalready knew as much.

You grab his dick, making his hands squeeze a little bittighter, and line it up with your entrance. "Shhh, don't worry. I'll takecare of your Brahms," you assure in a low voice, slowly sinking down onhim. You had seen his dick dozens of times, you knew how big it was, and yet itstill took you by surprise.

Brahms thrusting up to the hilt as soon as he is in doesn't helpat much. And you want to scold him, but it is such a dizzying rush when hefucks into you like a starving man. He wraps his arms around you, and holds youso close that it is a struggle to pull away to get face to face with him as hefucks you good and deep.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper in awe,ghosting your lips over his. That's also not much of a shocker, but much likehis dick, it also takes you by surprise. Instead of him thrusting too suddenlyhelping, it is his wet eyes and the way he looks at you like he is never goingto see you again.

Brahms lets out a pained sound, and those tears spills downhis face. He goes to hide against your neck, but you cup his cheeks in yourhands. You kiss him, slowly and pouring your heart into it, and Brahms kissedback just as, if not more, intensely.

Though his trusting has stuttered, he still continues on.When you pull away, you stare at him with the sweetest smile he had ever seen."You make me and Billy so, so happy Brahms. I love you so much."

Brahms sobs, loudly, and clutches you tightly against him.He thrusts in a few more time, hard and frantic, letting out little moans frombetween his crying, before going still and filling you with his cum as hebabbles incoherently against your lip. And God, if that doesn't finish you off,you don't know what would have.

Both of you fall back in bed, over a quite content Billy’slegs. Brahms is still holding you and crying, though quieter, and presseskisses to your lips.

You prop yourself up on an elbow, gazing down at him withnothing but love in your eyes, and it only makes the tears come out harder. Youbrush away the tears on the burned side of his face with your thumb. "Ohsweetie, if this was too much for you, you should have told me. We could'vestopped whenever you wanted."

He shakes his head, holding your hand against his cheek, butturns to look away. "I-I-I /wanted/ this, more than anything," hesays quietly, but in his adult voice. "But I don't like it when you lie tome."

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"Loving me. You don't, I know you don't. Not fully. Ifyou love Billy too, how can you love me completely?"

Billy, who had been floating in a state somewhere betweenrest and consciousness, shoots up. "But I love you too, pretty Brahmsy!Both of us loving you makes up for it!"

He cringes when you laugh, but calms down just fine enoughwhen you lean down for a long kiss. "Brahmsy, even though they weren't thebest parents, you still loved both your mom and dad, right? You didn't love oneof the less just because you love the other, right?" When he nods, yougive him another kiss. "It's the same with you and Billy. I love both ofyou, very, very deeply. My love isn't a finite resource."

"Thennn, you have double the love, because I love youtoo," Billy assures, in a higher tone but still his own voice. ThoughBrahms tries to squirm away, Brahms lets him give a kiss. "Because you'reso pretty, and you understand, and I like it when you hold me when I'm being anasty." He rubs his nose against Brahms'.

You smile as you watch them, and get yourself up fromBrahms. You his cum trickles out of you, and as much as that turns you on, youdon't think you could take anymore. "I'm going to go get cleaned up,"leaning over to pick up Brahms' pajamas that you discarded, you can feel himcum leaking out of you and running down your leg.

You clench up and bite your bottom lip at the sensation.Christ, Brahms came /a lot/, more than any other guy you had seen. You swap hispajamas for the tissue he was using to wipe his dick on. "Go get comfy,sweetie."

When you leave, Billy squirms to take up his favoriteposition in the middle of the bed, pulling his shirt down to cover himself.Brahms doesn't bother buttoning up his shirt, instead slips under the coversnext to Billy. He tosses around an idea in his mind for a few moments, beforewrapping himself around Billy like a body pillow.

Billy only freezes up briefly, before aggressively worminghis way closer to Brahms. He lets out a delighted giggle, and slips his handsunder Brahms' shirt and rubs his back. "Warm..." he mutters over andover again, nosing Brahms' furry chest. A large rushing sigh comes out from hismouth as he stops his seemingly unstoppable shivers and sinks into Brahms.

"Kiss?" Brahms asks, struggle not to slip into hischildish voice.

Billy leans his head up, eyes clear and focused and warm ina way Brahms had never seem. He gives Brahms a slow, chaste kiss, beforeburrowing back into his chest again.

He's already lightly snoring by the time you make it back.

You slide in on the opposite side of Billy, but everyone isso close together, Brahms can get his arms around you as well, and press yourforeheads together. You tilt your head slightly to give him another quick kiss."Goodnight Brahmsy," you whisper.

Brahms doesn't say anything, but he squeezes your hand tightly. 

[old1ddude]

Living With Pink

Since @seasurfacefullofclouds did a lovely review on ‘Harry Styles’ (post) after living with it for more than a year - I felt inspired to write up my own observations and opinions.  

For the sake of brevity and the fact that it seems to irritate certain haters - I will refer to Harry’s album as “PINK” throughout.

Melody!  There are ten good, fully developed melodies in an era where a four note hook combined with a bass loop is thought to constitute a song.  Really, there are more than ten, Sign of the Times has three distinct melodies, seamlessly woven together.  (On an intellectual level, I understand that some people don’t think melody is the most important element of music.  On a gut level, I just don’t get it.  Melody is it for me.)  I’ve listened to PINK straight through hundreds of times.  The  beauty and quality present in every song, nearly every moment never fails to impress.  I’ve never really been an album guy, because, even among my favorite artists, at least half of the songs seem there just to take up space.  (I used to make mix tapes, back in the day.)  With PINK, I feel that every song has real merit and is fully worthy of it’s place.    Harry’s voice (which I have always really loved - even X-Factor era) and vocal technique have reached a superlative level.  I think Harry is at absolutely peak performance, and it’s a beautiful thing to behold.  The instrumentation and arrangements are breathtaking.  Even the angry Kiwi has deep beauty and avoids shrill, unpleasant sounds, often found in hard rock.  For those who are willing to look below the surface, PINK’s honesty, vulnerability and frankness are noteworthy.  I feel that Harry is speaking directly to me and the album is providing a window into his soul - into his humanity.  PINK grapples with internal conflicts omnipresent in the human condition, good and evil, love and hate, selfishness and sacrifice.  I am very confident that PINK will sound just as good 20, or 30 years from now - it won’t ever become stale, or sound dated.  Some wished for a more cohesive album, but for me, the variety makes it really hard to grow bored of PINK.  I was infatuated with the album from the start.  As time goes on, my love for it only deepens.

This ended up getting pretty long - track by track under the cut.

Meet Me in the Hallway was a bit dreary to me at first.  Now I find myself absorbed in it.  The aching and longing, the vulnerability, the pain - it all feels so close, honest and real.  The repetition of  “gotta get better” is slightly irritating to my ear - for that reason, I will occasionally skip the track.  I do wonder, however, if that irritation was intentional - meant to provoke some unease in the listener.  The guitar part on this song is achingly beautiful, as is Harry’s voice.

Sign of the Times is a masterpiece by any measure.  Sea pointed out how difficult it is to sing this song in a way to do it any justice.  Precious few artists could pull it off.  Every time I hear it, the song transports me - it lifts me out of myself.  The rich, full sound and deft combination of three distinct melodies is no small feat.  Guitar slides, strings, gospel choirs - it could so easily be overblown, or too grandiose, but it strike the perfect balance.  The song moves at a stately sixty beats per minute.  I would imagine this is very close to Harry’s resting heart rate.  There is nothing rushed - every moment is given it’s full due.  Also, I am of the old fashioned belief that art should be beautiful.  Every second of SotT is achingly beautiful and I love it.

Carolina is great fun and incredibly clever.  May artists try to be “edgy,” or “cool” by referencing drugs.  Carolina recreates in music what I imagine it would feel like to be high on coke.  (I’ve been around people who were jacked up before.)  The manic “la la la la la la la la’s,” the fuzzy sensation, “she feels so good!”  If you listen carefully, Harry sings it as if he is in a slight haze - king of nuance, as always.  The metaphor is nothing short of brilliant - “get’s into parties without invitation” -  “she feels so good.”  Layers of sound, particularly on the second verse, are extraordinary.  This song gives you the same kind of sugar rush a hit pop song can deliver, but backs it up with plenty of vitamins and protein, so you don’t get that “sugar low” and grow tired of it.  

Two Ghosts has some of the most compelling word images - “Fridge light washes this room white,” for one.  It’s a deceptively simple, easy to sing song, but a lot of artist would turn out a boring rendition.  The album version is lovely, but the performance he did, just Harry and his guitar, was breathtaking.  Once again, we have deep vulnerability and profound honesty.  I do wish he had done the vocal “ooo’s” on the album version.  We’ve all seen how hyper aware Harry is of his surroundings.  He stared right at the camera trying to snag a sneaky snap.  He spots people, way up in the nosebleed seats, trying to leave early and gently chastises them.  He’s too finely tuned of an instrument to handle fireworks easily.  I believe he is much more aware of all his senses than the average person.  Touch, taste, sight, sound - he sculpts and paints with his music.

Sweet Creature is a song I will often skip back and repeat as once through just isn’t enough.  It’s not a sugary, or fairy tale version of love, but honest, vulnerable, real.  “Runnin through the garden, oh when nothing bothered us,” paints such a beautiful picture.  “Sweet Creature” is such and odd phrase and yet conveys such warmth and deep connection for Louis another person.  Harry’s voice brings an incredible warmth to this song - a warmth utterly unique to his quite distinctive voice.  Again, it takes great artistry to impart such feeling on a relatively simple song, like this.  The guitar part is certainly inspired by the Beatles’ Blackbird, but any similarity ends there, in my opinion.  For my ear, Sweet Creature is a better song - it moves me in a way Blackbird never could.

Only Angel sets up a beautiful dichotomy.  The angelic, SotT inspired, into and outro envelop the hard rock interior.  The contrast intentionally reinforces the song’s story.  Harry’s voice doesn’t quite have the anger, or hardness one might expect at on a first listen - the warmth in his voice was very intentional.  The angel (which is Harry himself) is also a devil between the sheets.  Mother (authority figure) doesn’t approve of how the angel presents “herself.”  Harry loves attention and the stage, but hates fame.  He’s good and kind, but also has a dirty side.  (I could go on and on, but I’ve  written on my OA interpretation extensively, ages ago.)  A plus for using a flawed angel as a metaphor for himself - brilliant.  The melody is catchy as hell - it’s a “bop” and great fun to hear, but there’s so much meat it’s almost ridiculous.  The sound is rich and beautiful throughout and I love that he brings back the angelic sound to close it out.

Kiwi has so little movement in the melody, yet it works beautifully - somehow, it’s still a great melody and hard to get out of your head.  The instrumentation is angry and hard, yet rich, full and pleasant to the ear.  Harry’s voice has just the right amount of anger and derision.  “She” is Simon Cowell.  She tempts the boys with fame and fortune, but she’s hollow inside.  It’s an angry song, but it feels so good, joyful even, to hear it.  Harry’s stage performance reveals how cathartic it is to finally tell Simon what he thinks of him - in front of a massive audience.  I love Kiwi so much, I’ve made the most raucous chorus into a ringtone on my phone.  “Oh I think she said, “I’m having your baby” [heyyyy] “it’s none of your business” [hoooo......]  Harry has such a great, raspy rock voice - it really isn’t fair.

Ever Since New York sounds like some combination of Bruce Springsteen and the Statler Brothers.  The accompaniment is beautiful and rich with a really great, solid melody.  Harry’s vocalization suggests someone who is TIRED and DONE with the situation.  “Tell me something, tell me something new.  Don’t know nothing, just pretend you do...” is sung as a plea - a plea devoid of any hope of being answered.  Harry is vulnerable, broken and through putting up a front, or playing games.

Woman has been compared to Elton John’s Bennie and the Jets a lot - way too much, in my opinion.  There are similarities in the structure of the song, but Woman has a completely different sound.  I like a lot of John’s music, but when he sings “B-B-B-Bennie” he squeaks like a rusty hinge.  Harry sings “W-W-W-Woman” in a different key and melody (and with a deep, pleasant vocal.)  “Selfish I know...”  It’s one of the best jealousy songs I’ve ever heard.  He knows he’s selfish - knows it’s wrong, but can’t help his feelings.  I love Harry’s unflinching look at the darker side of human nature and wholly realistic view of his own failings.  Woman has a very good melody and those little “la-la la-la la-la la-la’s” give it just the zest in needs.

From the Dining Table might just be too honest.  While the artistry was immediately apparent, I was a little slow to warm up to this song, because it’s a bit depressing.  He sings about masturbating as a distraction to his pain and loneliness (and some said the album wasn’t honest enough!)  This song is pure vulnerability.  It’s arranged with such simplicity and great restraint.  (Harry understands the beauty of restraint, you can hear it in If I Could Fly.)  This is another song which must be sung with great artistry, to prevent it being dull.  The addition of strings and lovely female harmonies (”maybe one day you’ll call me...”) is a master stroke.  I am perplexed as to why he didn’t have Sarah and Clair sing the harmonies on tour.  Beautiful, beautiful song, but it is still a bit depressing - as it was meant to be.  Harry loves angst and drama.

Speaking of restraint, Harry has a habit of doing just enough, but never too much (nuance again.)  He changes vocal inflection and flavor with ease, but never adds gratuitous vocal embellishment.  Harry is quite capable of singing runs and all sorts of vocal gymnastics, but chooses a simple, restrained beauty.  (Sometimes, less is more.)  He maintains this restrained discipline in the accompaniment, as well.  PINK is a rock album, but also so much more.  In ten, or twenty years it will still sound fresh - and I think more people will realize what a masterpiece it truly is.

[unluckycl0v3r]

He’s Breader Off Dead

Requested by: anon

bts gang! au

shippings: namjin 

A/N: this is my first fan fiction request. I hope you enjoy! (especially you anon) I had a lot of fun writing this, and I feel it must feel rushed. It was hard writing this when I didn’t want it long in chapters? So, this is the best I could do for it, as a small prompt. 

Summary: Namjoon is the leader of a very successful organized crime ring with his gang. He suddenly falls in love with a baker whom should have been just another one of his casualties, but after one look, he couldn’t help but fall for this sweet treat in front of him. 

Words: 3k

The alley was dark and abandoned on the night Jin had decided it was time to lock up, and promptly took out the trash in the small little bakery he owned. It was cold when he walked out into the unforgiving night, and Jin had to bite back the urge to run like a child to the trash and back. It felt ominous out here, but for gosh darn’s sake, you are man! (A beautiful one at that.)

               Jin then giggled at his own compliment as he opened up the dumpster and threw in the trash. His laughter was cut short once he heard shuffling, and a glass bottle being rolled from behind him. He turned around, eyes wide and sensors heightened, but he heard nothing further. Out of curiosity, even though he knew it killed the cat, he began walking slowly to the sound. He slowly went down the alley, and past the door to his bakery. (He left his door open with a crate so he could shuffle back in quickly because no matter how many times he tells himself he’s a man, deep inside, he’s a pretty princess who shall have no harm done to him!)

               The baker gasps in horror and stops in his tracks when he sees about five men dressed in black beating and holding down another man in shabby clothing laying on the ground with duct tape over his mouth and trying to scream. The man’s eyes met Jin’s in such a pleading manner, but Jin just stood there. That was until the gang of men began to turn their heads towards Jin, and he felt his flight mode kick in. He slammed the door to his bakery shut, and locked all of the other doors.

               One of the men dressed in black took off his mask, looking agitated. “Someone needs to take care of him. We can’t have any witnesses.” His voice was low and dark, which was odd for this member since he didn’t have the most menacing of voices. Except right now his jaw was clenched, more from worry than anger.

               After a final blow to the already bloody man on the ground, another member dressed in black stands. “Jungkook, calm down.” He took off his mask, his face was shiny with sweat. “I’m the leader, I’ll take care of it.”

               With that, Namjoon fled the sight, and within a few long minutes all the lights in the street went out. A simple power outage. No calls. No lights. No distraction. Only darkness.

               Junkook put his black mask back on, and him and the rest of his gang fled the scene with the man they had beaten. Only Namjoon was left.

               Namjoon walked down the dark street with a kind of swagger that only came from turning out all the power on the street. He came across a bakery and stopped in his tracks. I can take out the guy and steal his sweets, killing two birds with one stone, was his thought as he knelt down and began picking the lock of the door. Within a few seconds you could hear a click! And he was in.

               The moment he walked through the door he almost jumped at the sight of the baker holding up a wooden stool to him. Namjoon wasn’t prepared to be confronted with such bravery, especially in that god forsaken chef’s hat. The man in front of Namjoon looks manic with his fearful, wide eyes, and shrill voice.

               “You stay back now! I will hit you! Stay back!” Jin screamed at the man, swinging the stool furiously. Namjoon held out his hands in an attempt to calm down the baker, only backing up a step or two. Namjoon took a good look at the baker, and found him absolutely gorgeous in his attempt to fight off the gang leader. His eyes were wide and innocent, his skin like smooth caramel, and broad shoulders. The gang leader always had a soft spot for sweet treats.

               “Hey, hey. Calm down!” Namjoon ducked only just in time to miss a blow to the head from Jin, and swiftly took the stool from him before knocking the baker out with his own weapon. Namjoon stared down at the unconscious man, thinking of what to do with him. Can’t leave him here, he’ll call the cops. For some reason, Namjoon can’t force himself to kill him either because he just looked so peaceful sleeping, and he was just a nice, innocent baker enjoying his work finally ending. He definitely did not decide to kidnap him because the look of the baker, and remembering his frantic shouting, made him feel all warm inside. He definitely didn’t decide to kidnap the baker because looking at his face made him hard. Of course, Namjoon could not leave without his desserts either.

               When Jin woke up, his head from freaking killing him. He sat up with a groan and rubbed his head. What happened last night? Jin opened his eyes to find himself in an unknown bed, in an unknown, dim room, in a probably unknown house. It was not a very pretty house either from the look of the room. The walls were bleak and bare, and the dim lights flickered above him. There was just one old, small TV that sat across from him, and a dresser next to him with an equally dim lamp. Jin would complain more about it, but he’s thankful for it because of his massive headache.

               It did take Jin a few seconds to figure out that it was not right to wake up in an unknown place, and suddenly remembered what happened. Those gang members freaking kidnapped me. You’d think criminals would have more money, Jin thought while grimacing at how uncomfortable his lumpy bed is. That’s when the door to the room opened.

               “How are you feeling?” Said the man who walked in, holding a glass of water. He was tall and his hair was a golden blonde, and styled very nicely to one side. He wore a nice suit, which didn’t at all go with the look of this crappy room, and wore a smile that showed dimples in his cheeks. Jin looked defiantly at the man if front of him, reaching to take the water, and gulped it down within seconds.

               “Well, you can take being kidnapped off my bucket list.” Jin spat, handing the cup back to the man. Namjoon’s friendly smile stiffened, his head cocking to the side, and analyzed the baker’s sass. Unsurprisingly, it only amused Namjoon instead of irritate him.

               “Keep that up, and I might have to punish you.” Namjoon teased playfully, his smile becoming genuine again. Except, Namjoon was actually thinking of going through with it. This baker’s personality lives up to his face.

               “So, being hit in the head wasn’t bad enough already?” Jin winced as he rubbed his very sore head. Namjoon let out a low, dark laugh, and Jin hated the fact he was actually attracted to such a sound.

               “You’re funny.” The gang leader commented with an amused smile. Jin watched as he crossed to the other side of the bed.

               “Okay, but seriously, where am I? It is small and bleak in here, and this bed is making my back ache. I may be a kidnapped victim, but if you think I’m low maintenance then you were very mistaken.” Namjoon climbed up from the end of the bed and on top of Jin, and pulled Jin’s hair back to make him look Namjoon in the eyes.

               “What did you just say to me?” His voice was deep and gruff, but did everything but intimidate Jin. In fact, it only made his cock twitch in between his legs, and glare up at the man fearlessly.

               “I asked where the heck I was.” Jin’s voice lowered a few octaves, and was much different from his needy princess voice he used just a minute ago. Namjoon studied him closely for a minute, his eyes traveling down to the baker’s lips, back up to his eyes. Namjoon wondered if his lips tasted as sweet as the food he makes. He was also amused at the baker’s resilience to cursing.

               “What’s your name?” Jin was a little taken aback from the question, becoming softer at how close and intimate he suddenly felt with the unknown kidnapper, but he tried to remain looking tough. Namjoon was no fool, and caressed the baker’s cheek softly with his finger.

               “Um, J-Jin.” The baker stuttered, cursing himself for being so vulnerable all of a sudden. He closed his eyes at the touch, trying to look disgusted, but he wasn’t.

               “Jin,” The man repeated it slowly, softly. He let the word roll off his tongue, tasting how it felt in his mouth, and he decided in that moment that he wanted Jin to be his trusty trophy wife.

               Everyone was surprised at first when one day Jin walked in to meet the rest of Namjoon’s gang with a ring on his finger. In fact, everyone thought it was a terrible idea. Until Jin was living with them, cooking them food, cleaning the house, and overall taking care of the gang. Which none of them knew they needed until they had it.

               Namjoon let Jin keep his bakery, and it was with both their fortunes that they led the greatest organized criminal groups since the Solntsevskaya Bratva. Sometimes Namjoon and his gang used Jin’s small bakery as a safe house.

               The marriage at first was easy, and Namjoon cooed at how submissive Jin was under all that sass. Jin took care of everything, but he loved being spoiled and spanked and praised. It occurred to Namjoon how soft he had become since marrying Jin. His job of killing and stealing and getting high was slowing down slightly. I mean, Namjoon could still shoot someone without even flinching, but it was like he was pulled out of this world of gray.

               Namjoon started going on picnic dates, (which only ended in kinky, outside sex), and canceling meetings with potential clients to go on dates with his husband. Namjoon had never appreciated a rich life much, never cared for it, but Jin did. Namjoon would buy him everything pretty, and made sure the house they lived in was nice and big, and took Jin out to fancy restaurants and bought him expensive clothing.

               Neither of them could have asked for more. It was like having a stable, domestic relationship. Except, it almost wasn’t stable, and almost wasn’t domestic. Their relationship revolved around Namjoon coming home late, all tense and angry, to a very non-cooperative Jin who sassed his way into being punished. Which of course, led to Namjoon letting out his anger in very rough sex, and Jin being very pleased with his life.

               Even the gang liked Jin. Sometimes everyone would just hang out at the bakery and eat pastries as if they were just a normal friend group, and not a complete hardcore gang. They all felt complete, really.

               Life was perfect. Jin was the happiest he had ever been. He had the taste of a silver lining. A very average life of baking, cleaning, and making people smile. Then a very thrilling life where he had a very kinky husband whom was the leader of an organized crime ring. They were rich, and they were illegal. How could anything possibly mess up this wonderful dynamic?  

               One afternoon, Jin was wiping the counters of his bakery when he looked up at the sound of bell chiming when the door opened. Namjoon was accompanying him that afternoon, eating a pastry at a table nearest to his husband. Although Namjoon barely noticed how Jin gaped at the man entering, his hand coming to a slow stop, and he seemed very tense. The unknown man, on the other hand, looked very smug with his bleached, messy hair, and wearing a fashionable red suit.

               “My darling, I have finally found you. Is this where you’ve been hiding all these years?” To that sound, Namjoon stood and went into action, walking up to the man. Jin just glared at this unknown figure with much loathing. The man only turned, and gave Namjoon a smile. “Honey, who’s this? Have you found another trouble maker to settle down with?”

               Namjoon immediately punched him in the face, and he stumbled backwards holding his now bloody nose.

               “As a matter of fact, I have.” Jin said tensely, and after the punch Namjoon looked at the baker with confusion. Jin looked at him worriedly.

               “Who is that?” Namjoon asked, his face red from sudden anger rising in his gut. The man holding his bleeding nose, which was running down his face and onto his suit, laughed heartily.

               “I’m Ken. Seokjin’s husband.” Ken said in a muffled voice. Namjoon’s gaze snapped from Jin to Ken furiously, unsure of who to be mad at first.

               “Ex-husband.” Jin corrected, he sounded as if he has tasted something foul. Ken ignores this.

               “He abandoned me when I went to jail.” Ken’s smile went from friendly to sinister as he stared at Jin. “In fact, he betrayed me and his gang.” Namjoon forcefully pushed him against a wall and growled at him.

               “What are you talking about?” He demanded aggressively. Ken only smiled at him.

               “You don’t know? Why don’t you ask him?” Namjoon took his eyes off Ken to glance at his worrisome husband. Jin’s hands were hidden under the counter, a look of pure distaste on his face. Namjoon held Ken tighter against the wall.

               “Why don’t I just kill you instead?” He threatened through gritted teeth. Ken didn’t falter at the threat.

               “Go ahead. The police are already closing in and about to take your sweet lover away.” Ken said with pride.

               “Back away from him.” Jin ordered to Namjoon. Perplexed, and slightly offended, he stepped back from Ken. What happened next happened so quick that Namjoon barely had time to process. A loud bang was heard throughout the bakery, and Ken was lying on his back in the middle of the floor, blooding gushing from his head.

               “What the fuck!” Namjoon exclaimed, jumping back. He had seen many murders in his day of crime fighting, but never from his sweet and innocent lover. I mean sure, Jin was sassy and didn’t like being bossed around, (either that or he just loved being punished), but he would never expect Jin to pull the small handgun from under the counter and shoot this man in the head. He stood, stunned.

               “Don’t worry about him. Get everything illegal out of the back, contact the gang, empty out all our bank accounts, and let’s get the freak out of here. I’ll be darned if I let some good-for-nothing ex get me caught.” It took everything he had to come out of his frozen position and get into action.

               It was even harder to drop everything and leave. They barely beat the police as everyone boarded an airplane with very light luggage and left the country. They changed their names and identity. They made sure they were invisible. Namjoon could barely wrap his mind around what had happened.

               It wasn’t until they had finally settled down, and it had been a few weeks since the shooting. Namjoon was lying next Jin in a very comfy bed, and his husband was curled up in the covers next to him. Jin was obviously tired, but Namjoon could not stop thinking about what happened and turned to face his husband.

               “At the bakery, who was that?” Namjoon asked bluntly, his voice showing no signs of sweetness or comfort. Jin barely noticed his tenseness though, only grunting sleepily.

               “Who’s who?”

               “Ken! Whose Ken?” Namjoon nearly shouted, and Jin woke up completely. He glowered unhappily at Namjoon for waking him up.

               “Why are you bringing him up now?” Jin asked irritably, his eyes squinting at him in anger.

               “Because you killed him and he said that you were his husband and that you got him locked up in jail.” He rambled, his stomach all knotted up and tense. Jin sighed, trying to fight off sleep as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. When he spoke, his voice was much softer and more patient.

               “When I was younger, I married a guy named Ken. He was hot, badass, and made a ton of money. Once I was married to him I learned how he was so successful. He was an international drug smuggler and he was the leader of a biker gang. He knew I wasn’t just some innocent bystander. I was tough, cunning, and fuck ton smarter than he was. He offered to have me in charge of his gangs with him, and I agreed. We were rich and hot and it was so… exciting.

But one day everything went very wrong. I went to send a suitcase full of drugs across the border to this guy who was offering millions, but we got caught. We were surrounded. Except, I didn’t go, I had only planned it. So, I took the money we had and left. I realized how much anxiety being in charge of things made me, and how much awful things I’ve done. I wanted to start over and do some good. Despite my riches, I bought a small house and a small bakery. I’ve always loved to cook and bake. It was the only good I knew. But we all know it’s my fucking luck that I run into you, and you literally steal my heart. I guess I just attract bad boys.”

Jin had looked down in shame as he spoke, but Namjoon only gaped at him. His face was unreadable, but it looked most like shock. When it was silent, Jin looked up and furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. “What?” He whined, looking angry. Namjoon’s look of surprise didn’t falter.

“I have the most confusing boner right now.”

[artificialqueens]

: Sinning Never Felt So Good : Chapter Two : katyasbingowings

Chapter Two:

“It is a pleasure to meet you Matthew, I am what you call Katya, and this is Adoor,” the eccentric woman spoke with her hands, flailing them manically to convey her message. Matt was not used to such peculiarity, being caged in a desolate religious community since he could barely walk did not prepare him for this sort of environment.

“Nice to meet you Katya, Adore, but just call me Matt,” he smiled sheepishly at the two young women, fairly nervous around the strangers. Matt entertained himself by pushing food around his plate, in attempt to distract himself from Jason, whose eyes were seemingly locked to the side of his face. Jason didn’t even attempt to be subtle, and Matt was slowly growing flustered under the other’s gaze.

“Is this what religious people eat normally? Cause it’s shit and I feel bad for you,” Adore blurted out, not thinking twice about her words before they were out in the open. Jason cackled manically in response, while Katya smacked the fellow female’s arm with a surprising amount of force, probably leaving a temporary mark on Adore’s exposed flesh. However Matt did have to agree, the food appeared greatly distasteful, and he wasn’t looking forward to living off the greasy mess they claimed was suitable nourishment for the rest of his days at St.Annes.

“Well I don’t usually have my food cut into crosses and depictions of the nativity, or where’s everyone’s serving is made in the same pot,” Matt cracked, missing his mother’s home made roast at this point, these potatoes were not up to his high standards and were honestly insulting. Matt smiled as the abstract group began to laughed hysterically, growing used to the company of loud-mouths already.

Adore, wanting to stop food talk, as its poor quality was honestly upsetting her, began a fresh conversation. “Anyway, you got roomed with our very own Jason then, eh? Lucky you, he’s a looker don’t you think?” Adore - recovering from her previous spout of amusement - teased, before being pelted in the face with a tator-tot from the boy in question himself. “Hey! It was a compliment you dick!”

Matt observed the situation take place, scraps of food being tossed absentmindedly, Matt himself having some form of sauce douse his forehead - Sister Courtney soon shut the ‘childish activity’ down, Matt rigorously apologising on the entire table’s behalf, personally appalled. The three, now tater-tot free and growing bored, turned towards the reserved boy with mischievous glints in their eyes, waiting for Matt to respond to Adore’s previous question (that he had hoped was long forgotten). Matt hadn’t considered his new roommates appearance, in all honesty he’d barely looked him in the eyes since Jason - literally - barged into his life, so for the first time Matt properly examined the long-haired individual. Jason’s dark, hooded eyes were shrilling, with arched eyebrows and slim features that made him appear somewhat feminine, the wavy locks really added to the illusion. He isn’t bad looking at all. In a completely platonic way, of course. “I guess,” Matt mumbled, eventually.

“I guess? I fucking guess? I’m the most magnificent specimen walking these damn halls, and all I get is ‘I guess’! You truly have offended me,” Jason exaggerated, thrashing around disorderly to demonstrate his true distaste to what Matt had voiced. The whole table, even Matt, giggled mercilessly at the distressed individual - the table once again drowning in a mess of laughter.

Jason drew out the scene, his mock hurt being a running joke throughout the entire conversation - when Katya insisted the boy was 'an outstanding exhibit of human creation’, Jason would claim his emotional past meant he could no longer accept compliments, with a clear side eye towards Matt. These actions would was always brushed off with a meaningless shrug, though that did not discourage the playful banter. At some point Adore mentioned that his parents must be 'absolutely banging’, and Jason quickly changed the topic, appearing somewhat uncomfortable, though disguising his demeanour skilfully.

The group were soon discussing class schedules: Matt happened to share a religious history lesson with Katya, the Russian accompanied Adore and Jason in English literature, and the foursome continued to discuss the various other cross overs, all glad to know that they wouldn’t be stranded alone for the majority of their subjects.

“Anybody have P.E tomorrow morning?” Jason inquired, tying his hair up in a simple bun while addressing the group.

“I do,” Matt piped up, catching himself watching Jason’s effortless action, simply shaking himself off and blaming it on fatigue; it had been a long day.

“Lucky you, get to see my ass in short shorts,” he winked at Matt, before returning his attention to Adore, who was humming some alternative tune that was 'far too punk’ for the rest of them to recognise. What Jason didn’t notice when he turned away was Matt’s face flush, the Christian utterly shocked at how loosely Jason bantered, drawing a thin line between friendly teasing and blatant flirting. Matt, now completely taken aback, knew what he had to do: pray.

So the boy soon excused himself politely, expressing his pleasure in meeting them all, and was on his way. Katya, Adore and Jason were all equally baffled, forgetting that some at St.Annes were bible-believers and weren’t merely delinquents. “Party,” Adore stated as the four became three, “wanna hit a blunt?”

“Defiantly,” Katya and Jason replied in unison, nodding furiously.

***

Matt was unaware of a world outside of Sunday service and spending more time at church than home; his town was ran by religion, never meeting anyone who questioned the work of God. So it was safe to say that his first day at St.Anne’s had thrown him off the tracks completely; Matt was surrounded by those he had been told are sinners his entire life, never realising such people could be friendly and outstanding individuals, people who he may even eventually even consider friends.

Jason clearly had homosexual tendencies, Adore was purely sex-driven, and Katya was - well, Katya. If his father witnessed them, or most of the inhabitants at St.Annes, he’d warn Matt to stay clear. Though Matt’s father wasn’t here, so the boy had no upper force urging him in a particular direction, which left his judgement cloudy and his true desires more apparent. And even he wasn’t sure what his true desires really were.

What Matt did know, however, was that curfew was in an hour, the first official school day beginning in the morn (which of course excited the happy-go-lucky student). He was already ready for bed - what could he say, he liked being a step ahead - and decided to wait up for Jason. Matt was a fan of early nights, however he didn’t want to be drastically awoken if the door slammed open once again, or impaled by a cross if it fell off the wall and through his head - he also thought it’d be a respectful gesture, allowing the pair to bid goodnight, and would give Matt a chance to thank his roommate for not leaving him abandoned during their evening meal.

So Matt waited, spending the hour doodling and wasting time until curfew hit. When Jason was ten minutes late, Matt believed it was reasonable, he could have got lost or held up for whatever reason. When he was thirty minutes late, though irritated, Matt reminisced that the long-haired brood had been equally as late earlier that day. Though when he was over an hour late, Matt was straight up pissed. It was in his nature to worry, and this situation was not helping his nerves in the slightest.

“For God’s sake ” Matt muttered to himself, an instant panic-stricken look overtaking his features, as he had made a grave mistake. “Lord I apologise for taking your name in vain, it was a slip of the tongue, I meant to say golly I promise…”

***

It was easily 11:30PM, far past the 10:00PM curfew, and Jason knew this. Adore and Katya had left a while ago, after a high class - pardon the pun - bonding session over a joint. Though Jason was enjoying the serenity of the whole situation, and let himself lose track of time while appreciating his own company, as being alone in the dark oddly put him at peace. Initially, St.Annes was his utter nightmare, however he was already growing used to the lack of yelling, and there seemed to be an abundance of smokers, drinkers and partiers similar to himself occupying the campus (all sent away so their parents didn’t have to deal with the messes they had created). He had briefly became aquatinted with Willam, who was desperately trying to hide a litre bottle of vodka from the superiors on a war path for contraband - they were obviously doing a subpar job, considering Jason was freely smoking without being caught.

He took a long drag of his cigarette before discarding it casually, brainstorming the most ideal way find to his room without being beat by an angry nun on patrol. Jason, now relying on Matt still being awake, scurried up a nearby fire duct, peering through each window until he saw his clearly distressed roommate pacing erratically. He had took note of this exit earlier, knowing he would need to take advantage of it at some point, not realising it would be as early as his first day.

Jason lightly knocked on the glass, sending Matt flying in fear, before he recognised the figure staring back through the clear pane. The window was soon pushed open and Jason shuffled in, thankful of his skinny figure that aided him to slip through such a narrow gap. To Jason, this seemed like a regular activity, one he would repeat for Matt without a question asked. Though to Matt, the situation was completely disastrous.

“Where have you bloody been!?” Matt whisper yelled, conscious of causing a ruckus, though still overwhelmed by infuriation.

“Clearing my head,” Jason returned simply, undoing his hair and letting the strands fall at his shoulders, expelling a startled gasp when he was the suddenly drenched in a heavy musk “what the fuck are you doing!”

“You reek of smoke, which is clearly against the school rules, it’s literally the first on the list dammit! If our room smells of smoke I don’t want to go down with you!” Matt screeched, continuing to douse a far too calm Jason in Cologne. He had masked the scent a good 15 squirts ago, but continued just to be on the safe side.

“On the contrary, I’d love to go down with you,” Jason grinned, basking in Matt’s distraught reaction, “I could blow the God right out of you.” Now that was unnecessary, but the other boy was annoying him to no end, and Jason was already aware that gay talk made the shorter one quiver - why else would he race off to pray after talk of his (very impressive) rear end?

“Well that was just extremely inappropriate wasn’t it, especially in front of a cross, we should pray -” Matt, utterly dumbstruck, began to stutter, snapping his attention away from Jason’s eyes and turning to refocus on the bible he kept on hand besides his bed.

“I could show you what inappropriate is,” Jason purred, now directly behind the other boy, words brushing his earlobe sensually. Jason’s teeth grazed the other boys skin for a brief moment, Matt could feel the other’s breath coat the back of his neck, sending an unavoidable shiver down his spine.

“I’d rather you not,” Matt managed, shellshocked at the current situation he had been thrust into. Without even turning to look at the other individual, he heard light footsteps and the pressing of a mattress, indicating that Jason was going to do as he wished and abandoned Matt in his distraught state. It took the boy a second to recollect himself before following in suit, wrapping himself tightly in the duvet and closing his eyes tightly, wanting the day to melt away and restart afresh.

When sleep did not initially rush to his aid, he relieved his pent up stress the best way he knew how, to pray, again : 'Oh Father above, I am deeply sorry as I have sinned, I am truly ashamed of my actions, and I beg you to forgive me for what has happened, I ensure this sort of profanity will not occur again, Amen.’

For once this action did not help, as Matt knew - to his distress - that he did not despise what had just occurred, and thoughts surrounding this matter were keeping his mind running and physical being wide awake.